


Reminiscing

by MerakiandMangoes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerakiandMangoes/pseuds/MerakiandMangoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick one-shot centering on Kali in the aftermath of the Elysian Fields massacre. I posted this a while ago on LJ, but decided to post it here too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminiscing

The night hung heavy and hot around her; the humidity seeped into her hair and clothes, and moistened the air she breathed. The fountain to her right trickled quietly, the water turning red as it flowed past the body of the man laying at it base. His companions were strewn across the rest of the garden; she rested her feet on the one below her.  
In stark contrast to their prostrate bodies, the garden bloomed with life around her. She helped the vines that grasped for a hold in the dark to find their way to the corpses, and watched as they twined around them. The lotus flowers blossomed in the pond, while the crickets sang in the dark around her. The world had painted Kali as a creature of destruction and chaos, and that she was. But what they failed to see, what every hunter, witch and charlatan was seemingly blind to, was the life that followed in her wake. Those she killed were denizens of the darkness, and though she had spent her fair share of time there herself, she did not do its bidding nor further its reach.  
She did no one’s bidding but her own.  
Kali’s eyelids were suddenly heavy. She closed them, allowed her head to tilt back to rest on the back of the chair. She hadn’t closed her eyes for longer than a few minutes since the Elysium Fields massacre. She had never been one to show weakness, particularly of the emotional kind. Kali had long ago trained any grief she felt to show itself in the form of anger. In her rage she became violent; she could level whole towns, kill hundreds in a sweep, turning whatever weakness she was feeling into a demonstration of her power. This was more intended to reassure her than anyone else, though it did both well.  
Kali couldn’t pretend she was fond of many people; even more so, she couldn’t pretend she was fond of many deities. But occasionally, her footing slipped, and she found herself falling. Sometimes she caught herself; sometimes she did not. She had fallen particularly dramatically for Gabriel, whom at that stage, to her at least, had still been Loki. Still, she had managed to snag herself on a metaphorical outcrop, even with him, a lifeline that had become her saving grace. It had given her just enough support to pull herself out when she needed to; though the strength needed for this she found within, as she had always done and always would.  
Still, it had stung to hear of his death. It stung even more to look upon his body. He’d always had so much life in him; to see it drained away somehow didn’t make sense to her. When a human dies, they go somewhere. But she had yet to learn where angels went. The thought that he was there one second, then erased from the universe entirely the next was jarring.  
But the wound would heal in time; she would heal it herself. After centuries of experience, cemented by the sudden deaths of two of her lovers, Kali had decided that serious relationships were no longer something she would dabble in. She got into them in order to patch up some emotional wound, though every time the bandage seemed too small; it would stick, but upon removal it would rip a much larger wound than the one it was intended to heal.  
But she would have no need of flimsy, clingy Band-Aids now. She would dress her own, give them the care they needed to heal. Kali contemplated the conclusion she had come to; “I’ve always worked better on my own.”


End file.
